


Don't Think

by cyus (cruentum), marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cyus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some traditions they don't break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Think

**Author's Note:**

> Well- apparently they had a drink in a bar... originally written in comments on [this post](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/516462.html). Beta'd by [](http://misswinterhill.livejournal.com/profile)[**misswinterhill**](http://misswinterhill.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Originally posted March 10, 2011

"So-- doing Merlin again..."

"...yeah."

And they never admitted that it had become a tradition, but it sat between them and their pints, hung out in their silences that wavered a bit too much towards the uncomfortable. They'd never talked about it exactly, and they weren't now.

"Yours?" Bradley asked, brow creased a bit.

Colin shrugged. "Yeah."

Only time of the year either of them did cock, not kisses. The 'welcome back to Merlin season X' shag. Tradition, yeah? It was a good tradition, the kind you thought about from time to during the year and smiled secretly to yourself as a flash of memory came to you.

Colin slid the key into the lock and swung open the door of his flat, stretching out his arm to direct Bradley in. He'd cleaned up, tossed the take-away boxes into the bin and kicked his boxers under the couch on his way out the door that night.

He sometimes wondered what would happen if they shagged off schedule. Would it be all the hype and disappointment of Christmas in July parties, or would it have the thrill of stealing off school on a Tuesday afternoon for no reason at all?

They were always awkward at first, like fucking first dates or fucking on first dates, and the one beer hadn't done much to bring Colin down from the buzz of performance or Bradley down from glancing at him sideways and around his flat, the book open on the table, some of the magazines he'd left on the floor, the dead flowers in the vase.

"Break's felt longer before," Colin said as he stepped closer to Bradley.

"Yeah?" Bradley stared at him, shrugged. "I suppose." He put his fingers to his belt. "Shall we?"

Colin laughed and it came out a bit too breathy and too nervous, not at all detached and nonchalant as he'd intended to be. Just another stupid tradition, like wine neither of them liked after the first day of filming, and forgetting about each other during the break except for this.

Colin undid his belt and pushed his jeans down, watched Bradley do the same five feet away. They both toed off their trainers and pulled off their layers of shirt and shirt (and shirt), and dropped them to the floor.

Colin shivered, awkward and naked and cold. He tried to remember what came next. He should have offered Bradley a drink or three before they'd stripped.

Bradley moved first; he always did. He closed the distance between them so that Colin could feel Bradley's breath tickle the goosebumps on his chest. He squirmed and tried not to think about what they'd each been doing on the break and who Bradley had been touching the night before, or would be touching tomorrow. It didn't work that way. Maybe they were getting too old for this, too jaded for traditions that meant nothing and everything all at once. Colin couldn't remember how any of this ever made sense.

Then Bradley's warm fingers gripped Colin's hipbones and Colin remembered just how it worked.

Colin went for a kiss, every single bloody time, he went for a kiss first until he remembered that this was about nothing like that, and he ducked his head instead. He pressed his fingers to Bradley's side and dragged the tips down to his waist, rubbing a line just above the waistband of Bradley's briefs and from there down to the front of them, brushing his knuckles along the line of Bradley's half-hard cock.

Bradley wasn't as broad as this time last year, and Colin felt the perv for even noticing, cataloging the ins and outs of Bradley's body as if he was going to draw up a chart for comparison.

Colin lifted his head, glanced at Bradley just watching his fingers move up from fabric to the soft bulge of his stomach.

"You're quiet," Colin said as he slid his hand into Bradley's briefs, closed his fingers around his cock.

"Just thinking. Second to last time, huh."

"Not the last time yet then."

Bradley met his eyes and Colin's mouth went dry. After a half-dozen heartbeats, Bradley’s fingers dug in a little tighter and he whispered, "Not yet."

Colin hissed at the bruising grip at his waist, or maybe the depth of emotion in those words. Which, he wasn't sure. His cock was full and heavy in this boxers and it took everything not to capture Bradley's lips in his own and rut against him until they spilled all their secrets into each others mouths.

Instead, he bowed his head and watched Bradley's briefs stretch out as his hand slid up and down Bradley's cock until the moment passed and their fragile tradition was upheld a little longer.

"Already dread being sore," Bradley said. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Colin's boxers and pulled them away and down, let them hang around Colin's thighs, his wrist pressed to Colin's cock.

"Already dread getting too pissed the first night," Colin replied. He dragged Bradley's cock from his briefs and shuffled closer until their knees were pressed together and Bradley's hair was tickling against the side of Colin's face.

"Already dread night shoots."

"Already dread the rain."

"Already dread-" Bradley paused, breathed in sharply. "Never mind. Looking forward to the guys."

"Yeah." Colin didn't push, only moved closer until Bradley and his hand were caught between them, cocks pressing to wrists and palms and Colin pressed his hips into it, pushing Bradley off-balance.

"Hate the showers in the hotel."

"Hate the breakfast."

They both chuckled, and it lasted for a moment, easy, companionable, the chill from the unheated room only getting to Colin when Bradley moved again, free hand on his waist, and pulled him backwards as he was stepping back himself until Bradley leaned against the wall and Colin was trying his best to fit his hips and Bradley's hips into that one perfect puzzle of motion and pressure.

"Going to miss London," Colin said, only because he'd grown fond of it again the last few weeks.

"Going to miss you," Bradley said, and when Colin looked up, question mark spilling over his lips in a bit of a soundbite, he didn't look away, shrugged. "It's not a crime." He closed his fingers around Colin's cock and jerked him.

Bradley's hand moved like it belonged on Colin's cock, slow, confident pumps like those fingers were wrapped there every night and every morning and not this insanity of once a year.

"Going to miss you, too." Colin squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his voice, needy and desperate, when that wasn't at all what he was aiming for.

The moment was brittle in a way it had never been in previous years. It wreaked havoc on Colin's nerves, awkward moments and too much need dragging at the lines of their sexualities.

Bradley's rhythm faltered, just enough to tell Colin that he wasn't alone in feeling off tonight. Colin rocked his hips, fucking into Bradley's palm. It pressed them closer and trapped their wrists to make it impossible to keep a proper pace.

"No you won't," Bradley breathed, nothing more than a puff of air at Colin's shoulder. He slapped Colin's hand away and circled both their cocks with his thick fingers.

Colin whimpered at the soft slide of Bradley's cock trapped with his.

"Maybe I won't," Colin admitted where Bradley couldn't see him (speaking into the hair at the back of Bradley's head, pushing one arm up against the wall for balance) because they weren't good with lies, neither of them.

"You were brilliant tonight, Cols," Bradley said, jerking harder and forcing Colin up to the tips of his toes with the need to get closer, harder, have more. "Always are," he said a bit lower, half a moan as he pushed his hips forward, trying for a bit of extra pressure.

"Been meaning to send you a ticket."

"Hm." They really didn't do lies.

"Mouth?" Colin said instead, stealing a kiss of Bradley's shoulder when Bradley moved so he wouldn't notice.

Bradley shifted sideways to glance at Colin, then laughed. "You're better than I am."

"Bradley," Colin said, long and drawn out and whiny as he pushed into Bradley's grip and at his shoulder, just trying to get him to move the fuck down.

"Bradley," he said again. He needed the conversation to stop before it went further and his cock in Bradley's mouth was a sure way to manage that.

Bradley smirked. "You are so transparent, Morgan."

Colin flushed and shoved harder. With a snort, Bradley sunk to the floor.

He didn't hesitate. Not like that first time where he'd stared at Colin's dick, wide-eyed and nervous until Colin had to grab the base and angle it so it brushed Bradley's lips and snapped him out of his daze. Now, Bradley buried his face in Colin's groin, nuzzling at his balls and his pubes, kitten-licking up and down Colin's shaft in a delicious tease that had Colin tangling his fingers into Bradley's hair.

"Christ, Bradley." Colin gasped as Bradley swallowed him down, taking him all in one hot, wet slide until he hit the back of Bradley's throat. "When did you get so good at this?"

Bradley rolled his eyes at him and then closed them, brought his hand up to the base of Colin's cock as he pulled off with a wet slurp, the other to Colin's hip.

"I've been making the rounds," Bradley said, cocked and eyebrow at Colin and took him deep again.

Maybe they didn't do lies because they did lies too well. Colin's fingers tightened in Bradley's hair, pulled him closer, pushed himself deeper and he drew his fingertips over Bradley's face, brows and nose and to the stretched lips and the spit sliding from them when Bradley slid his mouth off and onto Colin's cock again.

It was heady, having Bradley like this; on his knees, at Colin's feet, in his flat, and knowing that for this moment, it was the two of them and no one else, no family, friends, crew, cast, fans, media - only Bradley's lips on his cock. Bradley moved his hand to his own cock, jerking himself, adding to the noise in the background to Colin's muttered 'fuck' and 'deeper', the wet sucking noises and the shuffle of his feet on the carpet.

Colin brushed his thumb back and forth over Bradley's lips, and he'd really like to kiss him, just once, with his lips wet with sex and his mouth tasting of cock, but there were traditions, and where would they be if they broke them.

He snapped his hips and Bradley opened for him. He kept it to long controlled slides in and out of Bradley’s mouth while Bradley held still and just gave over all control. A tickle of resentment crawled, dark and slippery up Colin’s spine because it all felt so well practised and that’s not how it was supposed to go. Something shattered then. Shards of Colin’s well-constructed world crumbled at the thought that Bradley was off doing this without him. That Colin had Bradley once a year and that was special, almost enough, except what if someone else had Bradley’s stupid perfect mouth, stupid perfect hands on their cock a hell of a lot more than once a fucking year.

He slammed in and Bradley looked up at him, eyes shocked and watering but not telling him to stop. He thrust in, fast, vicious, claiming. Bradley closed his eyes and took it.

“Your mouth,” Colin rasped. “Fucking hell, Bradley. Your _mouth.”_ Bradley would be hoarse for days. Colin held him tighter.

He heard the wet slap of flesh as Bradley fisted his cock, tossing himself off to the same brutal rhythm as Colin’s hips. Then Bradley choked and pulled off.

"Fuck." He pressed his sweat-slick forehead to Colin’s thigh.

Hot, wet breath fanned across Colin's skin, and Colin grabbed his cock and jerked it, deliberately keeping the rhythm off to keep it awkward and strained and strange. The wet sounds of Bradley's hand on his cock, the movement of his own, and Colin kept his eyes open through it. He pulled on Bradley's hair, kept him close to his thigh as he was jerking his cock above his head, precome and spit sliding from his fingers and into the strands of blond hair.

"Fucking tosser," Colin murmured.

They should stop, really, prolong this into a night, add a coffee in the morning like they'd done two years ago, make the mistake of falling into bed together like the first year, got pissed off their arses after like last year and sworn eternal brotherhood and _not doing it like this again, you hear me, Colin? will not let you walk away during the break again._ But this was all they had, and so Colin tightened his fingers and closed his eyes and pushed into his grip, revelling in the sounds Bradley made, bit-off, wet, still coughing against his thighs.

Bradley came before he did, all sighs caught before they were fully out, breath stopping and starting again, and Colin followed a few strokes later, come sliding between his fingers and down into Bradley's hair, to his shoulder, down his back. Bradley shuddered underneath him until Colin was done with a last few jerks, a last few thrusts of his hips.

Colin uncurled his fingers from Bradley's hair and stepped back, freezing now when the draught in the flat brushed across his sweaty skin.

Bradley looked up. "Know which train you're taking to Cardiff yet?" he said, voice rasping before he coughed again.

They had these awkward traditions, just a few of them, and most of them involved them doing shit like playing pool on the last night of the last Pierrefonds shooting day, like making sure to prank one of the crew good just once, like climbing to the top of the castle before the day's shoot and trying to forget that they'd be on cameras for most of the day.

Shit like this, because- Just because.

Colin wiped his come-drenched hand on his boxers and Bradley his own on his briefs.

"Don't know yet. Think we'll meet at ten there? So maybe the night before? There's one leaving at..." Colin shook his head. "I'll have to look it up." He slipped on his jeans, the sweater from earlier and watched Bradley dress.

"Beer?" Colin offered perfunctorily, because there were these traditions.

"Can't," Bradley replied, for much the same reason. "I'll just-" he said, gesturing to his hair and nodding towards Colin's bathroom and Colin nodded and watched him, listened to the water and watched him come out again, sweatshirt a little wet.

"I'll call you," Colin said, and he wouldn't, not until after they'd started up doing Merlin again. It's the one thing they shared. That, and this night.


End file.
